


dragon's bane

by hardlygolden



Category: Merlin (BBC)
Genre: Character Study, Community: merlin_flashfic, Gen, One Shot, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-29
Updated: 2010-03-29
Packaged: 2017-10-08 09:56:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/75483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hardlygolden/pseuds/hardlygolden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And this, at last, was a foe he could face.</p>
            </blockquote>





	dragon's bane

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the nightmares and monsters challenge at merlin_flashfic

Uther never told anyone about the nightmares. They came on suddenly – like an attack – in the moments between sleep and silence.

This was how the dream went, always: he was falling, as if from a great height, and there was no-one there to catch him.

Scenery and circumstances changed, in his dreams, but those two elements always remained: the fall, and the sensation that he was totally and utterly alone.

He had had the dreams ever since he was a small child. They didn’t come every night, nothing as dramatic as that – sometimes it would be months between them. As he grew older, he had hoped that the dreams would fade – but instead they grew with him, vivid and strong. The vague terrors of childhood paled in comparison to the horrors of the battlefield, the ravages of war.

Still, he was strong. He was first a prince, then a king – always something more than just a boy or a man. Never, never in his life had he been allowed to be ordinary; had never allowed himself to be ordinary.

They were just dreams – he knew that – and they shouldn’t have bothered him as much as they did. He was a warrior, after all. Yet he was accustomed to facing a foe that he could see, measure up: test sword against sinew, blade against bone.

He was never one to shy away from problems or difficulties – dealing with them the only way he knew how – head-on. Even as a child, he’d always needed something he could fight, something he could overpower. These misty wraiths of darkness and dreaming were not something against which he could defend.

Dawn was his time – anything could be faced, in the light of day.

But it was the night that taunted him, that beckoned. And every dream ended the same way – he always fell.

*

He’d tried to hide the nightmares from Igraine, at first – didn’t want her to see how weak he really was.

They didn’t come every night, but when they did he woke up, heart racing, and he would look over at Igraine. The sound of her breathing steadied him, lulled him into an uneasy rest until dawn.

One night, when he started awake, Igraine’s eyes were the first thing he saw. She was looking at him curiously; and he wondered how long she’d been watching him, wondered what he’d ever been afraid of. He never needed armor around her: if there was a defense against her love, he had yet to hear of it.

“What was it?” she asked, and there was no condemnation in her voice – only concern. “What did you dream?”

“I was falling,” he said. He’d never told anyone that before. No-one had ever asked, just dutifully averted their eyes, or soothed and offered sleeping draughts.

“I’ll catch you,” she said, her voice solemn and sleep-rough. “I’ll always catch you.” She reached her arm across his chest, and rested her chin on his shoulder. He clasped her hand, and thought of how ridiculous it was to believe that such frailty could support his weight. Still. He did believe her, somehow.

In the daylight, the nightmares always faded.

And Igraine was there, and her hair was bright as the sun and her eyes were as blue as the sky and he felt a pang of guilt for all the bards he had ever mocked, because they were right – this much beauty could indeed exist in the one person. It was too good to be true, but it was, and it was his.

When she laughed the night shattered around her, its spell broken – and her voice was the sound of dawn, of new beginnings.

*

The nightmares ended the day he met Nimueh – and it wasn’t until later, after Igraine, that he wondered why, what that might have meant. Whether he should have realised he was only swapping one kind of nightmare for another.

In the distance, he could hear the wail of a newborn babe – a boy, they said, looking at him meaningfully, as if that was something that should make him proud – and it would have, once.

He’d always wanted a son, an heir. But it wasn’t worth it, not when the price was this steep.

“Sire,” said Gaius. “Don’t you want to - ”

Uther didn’t even break his stride, and the sound of his footsteps rang out loud in the quiet room.

That night, he woke in inky blackness, heart pounding in his chest. She wasn’t there, and he wished that was the nightmare, but it wasn’t.

He woke up alone, now.

*

“Can a king have love?” Uther had asked his nursemaid, once, as a child.

She smoothed his hair back from his forehead with an unsteady hand. “A king can have whatever he wants, my little prince,” she said.

“_Anything_ he wants?” Uther pressed.

She looked sad, then. “Whatever he can keep,” she said, and refused to answer any more questions.

*

The villagers had been murmuring of a great monster that had been terrorizing the neighboring towns. A beast of its ilk hadn’t been seen in Camelot for centuries – it was a creature of the Old Magic – like sorcerers and sibyls, witches and warlocks. Like Nimueh.

And this, at last, was a foe he could face.

He rode out of the castle at dawn, his loyal band of knights close on his heels – but when they reached the outskirts of the forest he wheeled around. “Stay here,” he commanded.

They protested, but he held up his hand. “Silence,” he said, and there was a new intensity in his voice that they were powerless to disobey. His final order echoed in his ears long after Camelot was out of sight.

He rode on, until he heard the sound of hoof beats behind, without the accompanying clank of armor.

“Go home, Gaius,” he said, without turning around.

“My lord,” said Gaius, and it did not escape Uther’s notice that Gaius neither accepted or challenged his request, just steadfastly ignored it.

Gaius wasn’t his friend – a king didn’t have friends, his own father had taught him that. A king had soldiers and servants – all were dispensable. All except the queen – irreplaceable Igraine.

Gaius wasn’t his friend, but he was the closest thing to it, and if he was to be the last face that Uther would ever see – well, there were worse faces, worse fates.

There was judgment in Gaius’ gaze – pity too – and Uther was unused to either.

“Why are you doing this?” Gaius asked.

Uther dismounted his charger and patted him on the flank in a silent farewell. “You know why,” he said through clenched teeth, though his voice was steady.

“Yes,” said Gaius, looking at him with eyes that saw too much. “I know why. That’s not what I asked.”

Uther began walking towards the mouth of the cavern, ignoring Gaius.

“Igraine named him Arthur,” called Gaius, from somewhere behind his left shoulder.

Uther’s armor was radiant in the sunlight – and somewhere in his chest there flickered a flame he thought had all but extinguished. Perhaps – and for the first time since that night, he allowed himself to imagine what the future might hold and how he might be a part of it.

What he could keep.

As the shadow of the enormous dragon loomed overhead, Uther raised his sword.  
“For Arthur,” he said, and almost believed it.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Destroyer of Worlds](https://archiveofourown.org/works/86326) by [chaletian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaletian/pseuds/chaletian)




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